since I left college. I like to change things up, so I mostly take jobs that require me to do one big task, or set up processes and systems, and then move on.” The truth of her job hit her like an electric shock. She’d never allowed herself to settle in and get comfortable. She had specifically arranged her life so that she could never get close to the people she worked with or for, never be at ease in her own life. She kept moving on to different projects, never settling down long enough to build something.
It must have been intentional. She thought of her friends, the ones that liked her well enough, but never gave her a position of importance in their lives. Was that partially her fault? Did she keep them at arm’s length, always giving herself the option to move on?
Paul was still waiting patiently as her revelation buried itself into her mind, refusing to be dislodged. She tried to push it aside, focus on the man in front of her. Where was she?
“So, for Mr. Disik, I was meant to digitise his old files, sort them all into an easy to understand categorisation system that he could follow, store the hard copies of the files in an easily accessible way, and then move on. While there, of course, I did other duties for him, like run errands, take dictation, write notes and letters, that kind of thing. He talked about me possibly dictating his memoirs, but I put it off, told him I’d talk about it when I’d done the other work.”
“Sounds cool. I bet you were never bored.”
“You had and have a far more interesting job than mine.”
He shrugged. “Once you’ve lived in the midst of a war, you tend to long for a less interesting life. Interesting is not all it’s cracked up to be.” His voice was gentle, wholly without judgement.
A prickle of shame slithered up the back of her neck at her insensitivity. “Of course,” she murmured.
“I like this job a lot better,” he told her. It felt like a peace offering. “It’s mostly safe, and I can live the action vicariously through the others.”
“I’m glad you made it through the war and are safe now. I can’t imagine what it was like.”
He sighed. “It was what it was. I didn’t mind it so much. Not until the last mission. That coloured my view of it, I have to admit.”
“What happened?” She kept her voice soft.
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I suppose I walked into that question. It wasn’t anything spectacular. Just another firefight. I just happened to take a couple of bullets that day. But one hit near the base of my spine and that was it. No more walking. And no more beauty pageants.” He gestured to his face, smiling to bypass the seriousness of the conversation topic.
She shuffled to the edge of her chair, drawn towards him. “I don’t know about that. There’s probably at the very least an eye model competition of some kind. You’d take out the championship in that no question.”
He blinked and a surprised laugh startled out of him. He met her gaze and from the intensity of his gaze with those piercing eyes, Christine could tell he was staggered.
“You like my eyes?” A hint of teasing was in his voice, but more than a little confusion.
“Hasn’t anyone told you that you have the most extraordinary coloured eyes?”
Those eyes caught hers, and Christine raised her hand as if to draw her fingers across his brow and down his cheek. His breath hitched, just at the edge of her hearing. She stopped her hand in time, it hung uselessly for a moment in mid-air before she dropped it back into her lap.
His eyes were yearning as they searched hers. She didn’t know what her expression showed, whether the jumbled mix of hope, confusion, and fear played across her eyes like it did her mind. Eventually, Paul gave a small smile that seemed to convey a trace of disappointment, and looked away, releasing her from the power of his gaze. The spell of intimacy between them was broken.
“So, what do you like to read?” he
It must have been intentional. She thought of her friends, the ones that liked her well enough, but never gave her a position of importance in their lives. Was that partially her fault? Did she keep them at arm’s length, always giving herself the option to move on?
Paul was still waiting patiently as her revelation buried itself into her mind, refusing to be dislodged. She tried to push it aside, focus on the man in front of her. Where was she?
“So, for Mr. Disik, I was meant to digitise his old files, sort them all into an easy to understand categorisation system that he could follow, store the hard copies of the files in an easily accessible way, and then move on. While there, of course, I did other duties for him, like run errands, take dictation, write notes and letters, that kind of thing. He talked about me possibly dictating his memoirs, but I put it off, told him I’d talk about it when I’d done the other work.”
“Sounds cool. I bet you were never bored.”
“You had and have a far more interesting job than mine.”
He shrugged. “Once you’ve lived in the midst of a war, you tend to long for a less interesting life. Interesting is not all it’s cracked up to be.” His voice was gentle, wholly without judgement.
A prickle of shame slithered up the back of her neck at her insensitivity. “Of course,” she murmured.
“I like this job a lot better,” he told her. It felt like a peace offering. “It’s mostly safe, and I can live the action vicariously through the others.”
“I’m glad you made it through the war and are safe now. I can’t imagine what it was like.”
He sighed. “It was what it was. I didn’t mind it so much. Not until the last mission. That coloured my view of it, I have to admit.”
“What happened?” She kept her voice soft.
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I suppose I walked into that question. It wasn’t anything spectacular. Just another firefight. I just happened to take a couple of bullets that day. But one hit near the base of my spine and that was it. No more walking. And no more beauty pageants.” He gestured to his face, smiling to bypass the seriousness of the conversation topic.
She shuffled to the edge of her chair, drawn towards him. “I don’t know about that. There’s probably at the very least an eye model competition of some kind. You’d take out the championship in that no question.”
He blinked and a surprised laugh startled out of him. He met her gaze and from the intensity of his gaze with those piercing eyes, Christine could tell he was staggered.
“You like my eyes?” A hint of teasing was in his voice, but more than a little confusion.
“Hasn’t anyone told you that you have the most extraordinary coloured eyes?”
Those eyes caught hers, and Christine raised her hand as if to draw her fingers across his brow and down his cheek. His breath hitched, just at the edge of her hearing. She stopped her hand in time, it hung uselessly for a moment in mid-air before she dropped it back into her lap.
His eyes were yearning as they searched hers. She didn’t know what her expression showed, whether the jumbled mix of hope, confusion, and fear played across her eyes like it did her mind. Eventually, Paul gave a small smile that seemed to convey a trace of disappointment, and looked away, releasing her from the power of his gaze. The spell of intimacy between them was broken.
“So, what do you like to read?” he
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